Any Red-Blooded Girl by Maggie Bloom Read Free Book Online Page B

very distracting, Miss Fontain,” he scolded. “I’ll
probably be busy for a while. Can I walk you home?”
    Tupelo-9? Home? I’d almost forgotten that,
technically, Mick was at home here in Wild Acres.
    “That’s okay. Thanks for the offer and
everything, but I’ll be fine on my own,” I said. After all, if I’d
shown back up at Tupelo-9 with Mick in tow, I would’ve been
inviting an even bigger argument than I’d already signed up
for.
     

Seven
    LIKE a freshly launched cannonball, I flew
back to Tupelo-9. But as I approached the shabby pee shack, I
realized I’d made a rookie mistake. I was preparing to tell a
series of lies that involved me spending a ton of time in the
shower and the bathroom, but it was obvious I hadn’t even changed
my outfit, let alone actually cleaned myself up.
    Please, God, let my stuff be here, I
begged, as I rifled through the bushes in search of my clothes,
which luckily were still where I’d tossed them earlier.
    Only…
    I couldn’t afford to waste any more time. So
instead of showering, I ducked into a bathroom stall and did a
quick change. Then, in about three seconds, I threw my hair back in
a rough ponytail. Good enough.
    And when I got back to camp, I carefully
unzipped my sleep pod and slipped my belongings inside under the
radar.
    “Can I play?” I asked nobody in particular,
as I snuck up to the horseshoe pit sideways. I could only hope my
parents would figure I’d been hovering in the wings for a while,
and they just hadn’t noticed. I mean, I definitely hadn’t
been missing for hours with my sexy new boyfriend.
    “After this game,” my mother said, with a
distinct I-smell-a-rat tone in her voice. “Your Pepto is in the
cooler, by the way—if you’re looking for it.”
    “Thanks. I think I’ll get some right
now.”
    I strutted over to the cooler, flipped the
lid, and retrieved the bottle of pink goop. And at first I thought
about faking it, pretending to drink the stuff but really pouring
it out somewhere instead. But the Pepto seemed pretty harmless, so
once I got the childproof packaging off, I went in for the
kill.
    “Thanks again, Mom,” I said, thrusting the
bottle out in front of me like some kind of trophy. Gulp… Gulp…
Gulp. “I think this is really gonna help.” With a dramatic sweep of
my hand, I cleared the excess pink spew off my face. “I can feel it
working already.”
    I guess my last comment must have been a
little over the top, because Will shot me a who-do-you-think-you’re-fooling glance, which convinced me
to tone down the suck-up ishness.
    Then, to my great surprise, my family and I
played two relatively pleasant games of horseshoes, for which I
turned in an intentionally dismal performance.
    And at the end of game two, my father got the
dinner ball rolling. “Okay peepsles, who’s hungry?” he asked, all
chipper and eager-beaver like.
    “I’d love something, Dad,” I said, trying to
reel him in with my innocent puppy-dog eyes.
    “All right, Flowbee. You can help your dear
ol’ daddy-o cook then.”
    So while my mom and Will put the horseshoes
away, my dad stoked the grill, and I rooted through the cooler in
search of dinner ingredients. Hamburgers? No. Hot dogs? No. Steak?
No. Pork chops? No. Holy cow, I’m as carnivorous as the next
person, but just looking at all that meat was starting to give me a
legit stomachache. But hey, at least I already had the Pepto in my
system.
    On the hunt for something lighter, I dug all
the way to the bottom of the cooler. But the only thing left was
chicken. “Chicken it is,” I announced, passing the sticky, wet
package to my dad, who immediately started whipping out utensils
and spices and other culinary junk like he was a contender in the
Iron Chef competition.
    And even though I’d agreed to help him cook,
once my dad got going, I just got out of his way. With yet another
plate of macaroni salad and an icy bottle of Coke, I flopped into a
lawn chair and awaited the rest of my